finger on her book. “For your notes.”
“It would be hard not to have sex and death on the brain, considering. But—”
“Do you have a tattoo?” He watched her eyes narrow in consideration, and knew. “About this big,” he continued, holding his thumb and forefinger a couple inches apart. “At the small of your back. It looks like a three with a small wavy line coming out of the bottom curve, then a separate symbol above—a curved line with a dot in the center.”
“That would be Sanskrit for the Hindu mantra of ohm . The four parts stand for the four stages of concentration, which are awake, asleep, dreaming, and the transcendental state.”
“And here I thought it was just sexy.”
“It is.” Turning, Cybil lifted the back of her shirt a few inches to reveal the symbols at the small of her back. “But it also has meaning. And since you obviously saw it, we’ll have to consider your dream had some meaning.”
She let her shirt drop, turned back. “We both know that what we see is potential, not absolute. And that often what we see is crowded with symbolism. So, going by your dream, we have the potential to become lovers.”
“Didn’t need to dream to get that one.”
“And as lovers we have the potential to pay a high price for the enjoyment.” She kept her gaze steady on his as she spoke. “We could further speculate that while you want me on a physical level, on the emotional and mental levels, you don’t. The idea of us pairing off strikes too close to following suit behind our friends, and you don’t care to fall in line. Can’t blame you, as I don’t either. It’s also irritating—an irritation I share—to consider this pairing up could be part of a larger plan put into place hundreds of years ago. How am I doing so far?”
“You’re hitting the highlights.”
“Then to finish up, I’d include the fact that your pessimistic nature—which I don’t share—would sway your subconscious, or your gift, over to the get in, get off, get dead arena.”
He let out a short laugh. “Okay.”
“For me, I don’t make decisions on lovers based on the possibility that orgasm might include being consumed by evil forces. It just takes all the romance out of it.”
“You looking for romance, Cybil?”
“Everyone is. It’s the personal definitions thereof that vary. Why don’t we take this outside, on the deck? I like spring, and it doesn’t last long. We might as well grab some of it while it’s around.”
“All right.” Taking his coffee, he opened the door to the back deck. “Are you afraid?” he asked as she moved by him.
“Every day since I’ve come here. Aren’t you?”
He left the door open behind them. “I used to be. I used to spend a lot of my life being afraid and pretending not to be. Then, along the way, I got to the fuck-it stage. Just fuck it. Now, mostly, the whole business just annoys me. It doesn’t annoy you.”
“Fascinates.” She took sunglasses out of her purse, slid them on. “I think it’s good all of us don’t have the same reaction. This way we cover more ground.” She sat at one of the tables on Cal’s deck, facing his back gardens, and the green woods that stood along their edges. “Tell me about Ann Hawkins.”
So he did, and she took her notes. “Three,” she began. “Three boys, descended from her and Dent. Faith, that’s Cal’s area. Believing not only in himself, in you, in the town, but having the faith to accept what he can’t literally see. The past, what happened before him. Hope falls to Fox, and his optimism that he can and will make a difference. His understanding and trust in what is. Which leaves the vision to you—what can be—for better or worse. A second three—Q, Layla, me—falls in with that, forming subsets. Cal and Q, Fox and Layla, and now you and me. Three into one—three men, three women, three subsets, into one unit. We’ve accomplished that in a very real sense. Just as we accomplished
“It would be hard not to have sex and death on the brain, considering. But—”
“Do you have a tattoo?” He watched her eyes narrow in consideration, and knew. “About this big,” he continued, holding his thumb and forefinger a couple inches apart. “At the small of your back. It looks like a three with a small wavy line coming out of the bottom curve, then a separate symbol above—a curved line with a dot in the center.”
“That would be Sanskrit for the Hindu mantra of ohm . The four parts stand for the four stages of concentration, which are awake, asleep, dreaming, and the transcendental state.”
“And here I thought it was just sexy.”
“It is.” Turning, Cybil lifted the back of her shirt a few inches to reveal the symbols at the small of her back. “But it also has meaning. And since you obviously saw it, we’ll have to consider your dream had some meaning.”
She let her shirt drop, turned back. “We both know that what we see is potential, not absolute. And that often what we see is crowded with symbolism. So, going by your dream, we have the potential to become lovers.”
“Didn’t need to dream to get that one.”
“And as lovers we have the potential to pay a high price for the enjoyment.” She kept her gaze steady on his as she spoke. “We could further speculate that while you want me on a physical level, on the emotional and mental levels, you don’t. The idea of us pairing off strikes too close to following suit behind our friends, and you don’t care to fall in line. Can’t blame you, as I don’t either. It’s also irritating—an irritation I share—to consider this pairing up could be part of a larger plan put into place hundreds of years ago. How am I doing so far?”
“You’re hitting the highlights.”
“Then to finish up, I’d include the fact that your pessimistic nature—which I don’t share—would sway your subconscious, or your gift, over to the get in, get off, get dead arena.”
He let out a short laugh. “Okay.”
“For me, I don’t make decisions on lovers based on the possibility that orgasm might include being consumed by evil forces. It just takes all the romance out of it.”
“You looking for romance, Cybil?”
“Everyone is. It’s the personal definitions thereof that vary. Why don’t we take this outside, on the deck? I like spring, and it doesn’t last long. We might as well grab some of it while it’s around.”
“All right.” Taking his coffee, he opened the door to the back deck. “Are you afraid?” he asked as she moved by him.
“Every day since I’ve come here. Aren’t you?”
He left the door open behind them. “I used to be. I used to spend a lot of my life being afraid and pretending not to be. Then, along the way, I got to the fuck-it stage. Just fuck it. Now, mostly, the whole business just annoys me. It doesn’t annoy you.”
“Fascinates.” She took sunglasses out of her purse, slid them on. “I think it’s good all of us don’t have the same reaction. This way we cover more ground.” She sat at one of the tables on Cal’s deck, facing his back gardens, and the green woods that stood along their edges. “Tell me about Ann Hawkins.”
So he did, and she took her notes. “Three,” she began. “Three boys, descended from her and Dent. Faith, that’s Cal’s area. Believing not only in himself, in you, in the town, but having the faith to accept what he can’t literally see. The past, what happened before him. Hope falls to Fox, and his optimism that he can and will make a difference. His understanding and trust in what is. Which leaves the vision to you—what can be—for better or worse. A second three—Q, Layla, me—falls in with that, forming subsets. Cal and Q, Fox and Layla, and now you and me. Three into one—three men, three women, three subsets, into one unit. We’ve accomplished that in a very real sense. Just as we accomplished
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